by G. A. Henty
“I think that the only plan will be to hide up for a couple of days, or so; then to make our way down again to where the horses are, and then make a dash through Parton.”
“That would certainly be far the best way,” Roger said; “but how are we to manage for food for the ladies?”
“We will go on until we get to the top of the hill, Roger, and then find a sheltered spot, where they can stop. It is of no use trying to go on much farther, for the night is cloudy, and there are no stars to be seen, and we should lose our way directly, for there is no wind that would serve as a guide as to which way we were travelling. When we find a good shelter, we must stop with them; and I will make my way down to the place where the horses are, and warn the men as to what has happened, and tell them to lie quiet till I come again. I will bring back whatever food they may have with them, a big jug of water, and the four horse cloths.”
“I will go, master.”
“I would rather go myself, Roger. I am accustomed to traverse the moors at night, and am sure that I can find this place again, without difficulty.”
On nearing the top of the hill, they came upon a number of rough stones.
“We cannot do better than stop here,” Oswald said. “It will be bare on the top of the hill. Now, Roger, help me to pile a few of these stones together, so as to make a sort of shelter.”
They set to work at once, Roger’s strength enabling him to lift stones that ordinary men could scarcely have moved. In a quarter of an hour a little inclosure, six feet long by four wide and three high, had been constructed. An armful of dry heather was then pulled up, and laid on the ground.
“There, girls, I think you will be able to manage to keep yourselves warm, by lying close together.”
“What are you going to do, Oswald?”
“We shall be all right; and we can, if we like, make another shelter; and, if we feel cold, can walk about to warm ourselves. Now, Roger, get half a dozen sticks and lay across the top.”
While Roger was away getting the sticks, Oswald helped the girls over the wall, for no entrance had been left.
“Now, Janet, give me those two wet smocks; I see that you have brought them with you.”
“What do you want them for, Oswald?”
“I want them for the roof, Janet. It is beginning to freeze hard, and it is of no use having walls, if you have not a roof.”
“Won’t you take my cloak, instead?”
“Certainly not, Janet, you will want your cloak for a covering. Don’t be silly, but hand them over.”
By this time, Roger had returned with the sticks. They were laid across the top, and the girls’ smocks spread over them.
“Now, go to sleep,” Oswald said; “we must be on foot, an hour before dawn.”
Oswald then started down the hill for Parton. When he got within a mile of the town, he could see lights moving about on the road; and guessed that the Bairds had got torches, and were making sure that the fugitives had not hidden themselves anywhere close to the road; for they must have felt certain that they could not have reached the town, before being overtaken. When the lights had gone along the road, he descended to the river, took off his doublet and shirt, as before, and swam over; crossed the road, and was not long in finding the trees that marked the spot where he was to turn off to the farmhouse.
He made his way to the stable, raised the latch, and entered. A lamp was burning, and the two men sitting and talking together. They leapt up, with an exclamation of pleasure, as Oswald entered.
“We were afraid that something might have gone wrong; for, as I was waiting for you in the road, I heard a body of horsemen coming along, and hid behind the trees. As they went by, one of them said, ‘We must have passed them long ago, if they came by this road. They had not more than a quarter of an hour’s start.’
“I heard no more, but it suggested that, maybe, you had managed to escape with the ladies, and that the Bairds were in pursuit of you.”
“That was exactly the case. We have got them out of the hold, and methought that we should have got two hours’ start, at least, in which case they would not have overtaken us before we had crossed the Liddel, at the ford, six miles above the junction of the Esk with it, and were well on our road towards Longtown; but by some accident, I know not what, the matter was discovered before we have been gone ten minutes. As it was certain that they would overtake us, long before we got to Parton, we swam the Esk, and I have left the ladies on the hill over there, in charge of Roger, while I came here. We know that, by morning, the countryside will be up and searching the hills; and that, with the two lasses, it would be hopeless for us to try and make our way on to Hiniltie.
“Therefore, we decided to hide up for two or three days, then to make our way down here at night, mount, and ride through. By that time the search down in the valley here will have slackened, and we shall get through Parton all right, and our only danger will be at the ford across the Liddel; where, possibly, the Bairds may set a guard, lest we find our way down there. I had intended that we should take the four horses, and that you should make your way to Hiniltie across the hills; but as there will now be no great occasion for speed, one of you had best ride with us, while the other bears the news to Hiniltie that we have carried off the girls.
“You had better settle between yourselves which shall go with us. You may take it that there is about equal danger, both ways, for the one that goes to Hiniltie must travel cautiously, as it will be a week before the Bairds give up the search among the hills.”
“We had best decide by lot.”
Oswald picked up a piece of straw, and broke off two fragments, one an inch longer than the other; and, closing his hand on them, he held the two ends out.
“Do you draw,” he said, holding it out to Fergus. “The longest straw goes to Hiniltie, and shortest with us.”
The man drew.
“I have the longest,” he said, “and perhaps it were best that it should be so, for I know the way thoroughly, having often been over the hills in search of missing cattle.”
“You will both remain here, till we come. Now, what food have you?”
“We bought a supply in Parton, yesterday evening, and have enough for a week; for we thought that some might be needed by the whole party, on our way; and moreover, we care not to go down often to the town, as we might attract attention.”
“That is good. Keep enough for tomorrow, for yourselves; I will take the rest.”
“There is no need for that. We can get what we want from the house and, tomorrow evening, one of us will go down into Parton again.”
“Or better still,” Oswald said, “give the money to the hind here. I suppose there is one.”
“Yes; he sleeps in the house.”
“Give him money, then, and a present for himself, and get him to fetch it for you. Some of the Bairds may remain there, and you may be sure that every stranger will be strictly questioned. I want also the four horse cloths, which please make into a bundle. Is your water skin full?”
“We filled it this afternoon, thinking it possible that we might make a hasty start tonight.”
“How much does it hold?”
“About two gallons.”
“It would have been better had it been four. However, we must manage with it. Now, do you know of any ford across the river? for I certainly could not swim across, with this load.”
“There is one half a mile farther up. We were asking the hind about it, the other day, thinking that it might be useful should we have to fly suddenly. I will go down with you; and indeed, I shall be glad to go the whole way with you, for the provisions and those blankets and the skin will be no light weight; and, as I am going to Hiniltie, it will cheer Armstrong if I could tell him that I saw his daughters.”
“It would be a good plan, Fergus, though in truth the weight would be no great burden; but certainly, Armstrong would be pleased to know that you had seen his daughters.”
A few minutes later they se
t out, forded the river breast high, carrying the loads on their heads; and then, climbing the hill, made their way to the shelter, whose exact position Oswald had marked, on starting, by a huge boulder that stood on the crest of the hill, some fifty feet above it.
Roger was on the lookout. Seeing two figures approaching, when he expected but one, he grasped his staff firmly.
“Who comes there?” he asked.
“It is I, Roger. I have brought one of the men with me, to help carry the things. He is going to Hiniltie, and thought that Armstrong would be pleased to know he had seen his daughters. I have got plenty of food, and a skin of water.”
“That is capital,” Roger said cheerfully. “I was fearing that, having so many things to think of, you might forget water.”
Oswald went to the shelter.
“Are you awake, Janet?”
“Yes,” she replied. “I have been anxious, while you were away.”
“Are you cold?”
“I am not very warm,” she answered; “but do not trouble about it, we shall do very well.”
“I have two blankets here,” he said, as he removed the covering. “One of these I will put over you both, and tuck it well in, each side, to keep out the wind that comes in between the stones. Then I will lay your smocks over that. I wrung them well, before putting them on the sticks; and although I cannot say they are dry, yet they are not damp enough to matter, and will help keep you warm. The other blanket I will put over the sticks.”
“Thank you indeed, Oswald,” the girl said, gratefully. “That feels very much more comfortable.”
“Now, Roger, there is a blanket for you, and one for me, to wrap round us, plaid fashion.”
“I do not need one, master. In faith, I have more respect for this gown than I ever had before—it is wondrously warm and, with the hood over my head, I want nothing more.”
“That is all very well, Roger. If you don’t need it for your shoulders, you need it for your legs; for being without hose, and with nought but those sandals, you must be freezing. We will walk up and down here, for a bit, and do you wrap it round your legs, like a Highlander’s petticoat. When we have tired ourselves, we will lie down and try to get a sleep, for an hour or two.”
As they walked, they talked over their plans; and Oswald decided that, before daybreak, he would set out on the search for a place of concealment.
“I will leave my helmet and breast and back piece behind me,” he said, “and will take your staff. Then, if I am caught sight of by any party in the distance, I shall look like a shepherd; while, had I on my iron harness, they would at once suspect me of being of the party, even though I were alone. As for you, your monk’s robe would be detected, miles off.”
“I could leave it behind me,” Roger said.
“You have not much on underneath, Roger; and your bareness, in such weather as this, would be as noticeable as your gown. Mind, before it gets light, get the ladies up, and carry our bag of victuals and the water skin over the crest. You may be sure that, as soon as it is light, there will be many sharp eyes watching the hillside, all along here.”
The man who had come up with them had already wrapped himself in the blanket he had brought with him, had crawled in among the bushes, and was, as they could hear by his heavy breathing, already sound asleep. After a time Oswald said that, as they had nothing more to settle, he would try and get a few hours’ rest. There was not the slightest fear of surprise, and Roger and he were not long before they were both sound asleep. Oswald woke two or three times and, at first sign of dawn, shook Roger.
“You had better wake the ladies, in a few minutes, Roger, and get them over the crest. Let their man, as soon as he has seen them, start at once, keeping along behind the ridge, and warn him not to go down into the valley until he is fully a mile beyond Parton. Tell him to look carefully along the road, before he begins to descend, and to see that it is clear. Even then, let him hide as much as may be, behind brushwood and rock, until he gets down. When he has swum the river, let him make a wide detour round Parton, so as to come down to the stables without being noticed.
“I shall not be very long away. ’Tis scarce likely, among these hills, that I shall find any place that we can crawl into; and I think we shall have to content ourselves with lying down among the heather. I must find a spot where no one, on any hill above, can look down on us. We shall be quite safe from any party moving along on the same level as ourselves.”
Oswald had gone but a little distance, when he determined that no better place could be found than the plateau itself. This extended, for two or three hundred yards from the edge, looking down into the valley. Beyond, the ground sloped sharply down again into a deep hollow; and beyond, it was broken into rounded swells, rising one above another. A party lying among the heather, where he was standing, could not be seen by watchers from any other point. Moreover, it was most important that all should be in shelter before it was fairly daylight. He therefore, as soon as it was light enough to take in the principal features of the scene, hurried back to his companions.
“We can do no better, girls, than to lie down together, two hundred yards away. Pick your way through the bushes where they are thinnest, so as not to disturb them. Please be off at once, and choose a spot close to where the ground falls away, on the other side. Roger and I must tumble this shelter down, and scatter the sticks; for if anyone searching the hillside came along, he would guess that we had slept here, and there would be a hue and cry at once.”
The man had left, sometime before, for the valley; having gone off as soon as he had spoken to the girls. Oswald and Roger ran down to the shelter, speedily threw the stones into a heap, and scattered the sticks; then, after glancing round to see that nothing had been left, they collected the blankets, provisions, and water skin; and, taking up these and Oswald’s armour, ran in the direction that Oswald had pointed out to the girls.
The ground was thickly covered with heather, and they had to step carefully to avoid pressing it down. They reached the edge of the plateau without seeing the girls and, after looking round for a minute or two, Oswald called aloud.
He was answered by a merry laugh, and Jessie’s head rose above the heather. They had, indeed, passed within five or six yards of the girls.
“That is good, indeed,” Oswald said, as he lay down beside them. “If I could not see you, when I was sure that you were quite near, there is no fear of any searchers lighting upon you.
“The sun has just risen, and a mist still hangs on the top of the hills,” he went on; “and I am convinced that we cannot have been seen, for men placed on the watch are sure to be high up on the hills, and it will be some time yet before the sun rises high enough to drive away the mist.”
Although it was freezing sharply, they felt by no means cold as they lay, wrapped in their blankets, with the heather rising well above them, and sheltering them from a light breeze that had sprung up at sunrise. After chatting with the girls for a time, Roger and Oswald left them and, crawling along on their stomachs, got to the edge of the descent.
By this time the sun was well above the hills, the mist had cleared off, and they had an extensive view. From time to time they caught sight of groups of three or four mounted men moving about, searching the valleys; while single men, on foot, rambled over the hills.
“They are keeping up an active search, Roger. ’Tis well that we went no farther. They will scarce suspect us of lying close to the valley we left. I expect the main body has gone much farther. I have no doubt the Bairds have a couple of hundred men and boys out. They would call out every man and boy from their holdings, and most likely get a couple of score of men from their village, and perhaps twice as many from Parton. No doubt they will think that, if we came in this direction, we should, last night, have found our way to one of the tracks across the hills, and it is near these that their search will be the keenest. Fortunately, they cannot know that I am here, nor guess that it is to Yardhope that we intend to take them
, and not to Hiniltie. Still, they may expect that we shall try to cross the border, and I fancy we shall scarcely get through without a fight.”
“All the better,” Roger grumbled. “My fingers tingle to bring down this staff on the head of some of the Bairds, after all the trouble they have given us.”
They remained watching until it became dusk, except that, twice during the day, they crawled back and partook of a meal with the girls. The last time they joined them, Oswald said:
“Now, in half an hour it will be quite dark, and then we can safely get up and walk about for a bit. I am sure you must feel stiff, lying still so long.”
“I have never kept quiet for so long a time, since I can remember,” Jessie said, laughing.
“That shows that you have had no illnesses, Jessie. However, I shall be glad to get up and stretch my limbs, myself. Half an hour will be enough, and then we will have a good, long night. Another day of it, and I think it will be safe to start.”
The next afternoon they saw a number of parties searching the hills, in all directions.
“I expect they have become convinced that we have not tried to get straight through, Roger, and are hunting back for us. It is as well that it will be dark in another half hour, and they will then have to give up their search, for the night. If there were a couple of hours more light, I should feel very uneasy.”
“So should I, master. You and I would have little chance of mercy, if we fell into their hands. It might well be that, in their anger, they might slay the ladies, also.”
“That would be like enough, Roger. However, there can be no chance of their coming here, before it is dark.”
At nine o’clock they started, and made their way down, with some difficulty and many slips and falls, into the valley. Then they kept along near the river, till Oswald was sure they were close to the ford. He bade them halt here, and went forward alone. Before he had gone fifty yards, he nearly stumbled against a man.